Writing was my worst enemy as a child. It seems like I was forced to write at school. Plus, when I got home Mom made me do my homework. I would only write because I had to, but I actually had no desire to write. I felt like B.K. Loren felt, in her essay, “Living Without/With Words,” she states, “I couldn’t stand to see words played with as they were in some writing workshops”(20).
When I was seven Santa brought me a journal set for Christmas. I wasn’t very excited about my gift. Jessica, one of my good friends, always wrote notes in my journal after school every day. I always thought she was crazy for even taking the time to write. Well, I started writing her notes back. With every word we wrote our relationship became stronger. Then, I realized writing was actually fun. My journal turned out to be one of my favorite gifts. Our most valued thoughts and events shared together are captured in my journal. Growing up writing didn’t signify what writing means to me now.
Elie Wiesel, in his essay, “Why I Write: Making No Become Yes,” states, “As [Camus] puts it: I entered literature through worship”(23). I would say that I entered literature through friendship. Without my girlfriend introducing how writing can be meaningful, I would not have the same desire to write that I have today. Our relationship on paper kept my writing life alive.
Scott Russell Sanders, in his interview, “The Language of the spirit: An Interview with Scott Russell Sanders,” says that “I write not to escape life but to enter it more deeply, with my awareness and appreciation” (11th paragraph). To me writing has always been a way of relaxation. It gives me the chance to put my thoughts in logical arrangement to see where I’m at in my life. Writing helps me understand my own thoughts. The pages do not reply, but reflect me to who I am. Realizing all my thoughts and putting them together gives me a clearer view of the world I live in. When I look at my thoughts written down on paper it...